


Makin' It Work

by dirkygoodness



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, And everything else really, Angst, Daryl blames himself for Beth's death and for what happened with the prison, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Rick tried to convince him otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirkygoodness/pseuds/dirkygoodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl knew. He knew it wasn't his fault, he hadn't done it himself and he sure as hell hadn't purposely tried to fuck things up. It's just the way things were now - broken and dangerous, disorderly to a murderous degree. But none of that stopped Daryl from blaming himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Makin' It Work

**Author's Note:**

> This took about three hours to write, and I'm happy it's done so I can post it. 
> 
> Oh my goodness I just love making Rickyl angst don't I?
> 
> Sorry for inconveniences, misspellings, and any other mistakes I tried to fix as much as I could.

Daryl knew. He knew it wasn't his fault, he hadn't done it himself and he sure as hell hadn't purposely tried to fuck things up. It's just the way things were now - broken and dangerous, disorderly to a murderous degree. But none of that stopped Daryl from blaming himself.

Because in his head, he still thought - _maybe if I'd been able to do something, maybe if I'd been somewhere else_. Maybe he could have done more to stop the prison being overrun, realized what Joe and his group could do. Stopped Beth from dying.

He felt weak, unable to protect or help the people that mattered, and that just made him feel worse. His whole life had been about taking care of yourself, not relying on anybody for help because no one was willing to give it without a price. Merle had tought him that, and so had his dad. 

Daryl supposes, though, that is saying something since they're both dead. Because he did actually meet some people who gave without asking for anything in return - Rick and the others.

Sure, he hunted for them, helped keep them fed. But that was just because he'd offered to do it - someone else would have done it if not him.

As unrealistic as it felt and sounded, Rick actually wanted him there at his side. In their little rag tag group. So it wasn't all that much of a surprise when Rick came to try and talk with him.

Ever since they'd gotten to Alexandria it'd gotten harder for Daryl to hide the fact that he was upset.

The peace of it all, the lack of a need to kill walkers daily was making him have an abundance of time - and if he wasn't doing anything he thought.

Thinking wasn't good when all you have on mind is how you got your friends killed. Rick must have noticed too, there was no way he could have missed the mood Daryl'd been in since they got there.

He was agitated, jittery in his own skin. He felt like he was going to explode. Daryl was snapping at everyone, like a frightened dog backed into a corner.

He was somewhere new, and he hurt, and that made for a bad concoction. Attacking the prick who'd tried to hit Glenn had been some of that nervous energy and self-loathing shoved into one physical act.

And he certainly wasn't sorry for it. And besides, he didn't do much to the guy before Rick had grabbed him and pulled him away.

And if Rick hadn't known something was wrong before, he knew then - knew when he had to pull Daryl off the guy, when he'd had to stand in Daryl's way so he wouldn't go back again and hit the guy.

Daryl was sitting on the porch of the main house, tucked back into a corner as far as he could while still cutting up the sticks he'd found into new arrows.

The only people inside the house were Carl and Judith, who'd been taking a nap for about the last hour. Everyone else was off doing their 'jobs' that Deanna had assigned them.

Even Rick, dressed up in his fancy police clothes, was running around like walkers weren't real. Well, no. He wasn't. Rick new what he was doing.

He was just playing to Deanna's whims, trying to get her comfortable around them. Michonne too - and Carol. They were playing dress up until the real world came crashing down on the other people in Alexandria.

So Daryl jumped in surprise when he heard heavy feet step onto the porch. Daryl looked up, ready to hurt someone - but he stopped himself.

Rick was standing there, looking down at the ground as he came a stop in front of the stairs. He looked concerned, worried, and that set Daryl into panic mode. If something was bothering Rick then something was up.

"Rick?" Daryl asked quietly, looking the other man over for signs of injury. But he didn't see any, and Rick lifted his head and cast his eyes to Daryl.

He looked like he was worried, yes, but now that Daryl saw his whole face he also saw something else. Daryl swallowed thickly. He knew that look. It was the one he gave to people when he was going to have a talk with them, a talk about something important. And generally feelings were involved.

"Daryl." Rick said simply. His voice was stern, like he was already scolding Daryl for something - and that made Daryl's anger flare.

Honestly, everything made it come to light these days, and Rick probably could have told him they'd killed every walker in the world and he still would have been pissed right then.

Daryl scoffed, turning his attention back to the arrow in his hands. He didn't say anything. He might have been angry but he could still see past it enough to keep his mouth shut. He really didn't want to piss off Rick. Not right now.

"We need to talk." Rick told him, and as much as Daryl agreed, he gritted his teeth together and frowned something that looked like a snarl.

"'Bout what." Daryl snapped back violently, adjusting himself until he was sitting up straighter. Rick didn't seem phased though, like he was very well expecting this to happen, and that just made Daryl more angry.

_Who's he to know me?_ A vile voice snapped in the back of Daryl's head, sounding an awful lot like Merle. _He don't know shit. Actin' like he knows how I'm goin' to react - what gives him that right?_

Daryl pushed those thoughts down, fighting them off as best he could. Rick had been with him for a long time now, it shouldn't surprise Daryl that the guy knew how he'd react - or at least predict some of it. It shouldn't have made him as upset as it did.

" 'Bout you." Rick replied, but continued before Daryl had a chance to snap back at him. "You haven't been doin' all that good since we got here. There something you need to tell me?"

And that sent Daryl off, even though it was stupid for that to have happened, felt the words come out before he even had time to actually process what they were.

"Ain't got nothin' to tell you, _Grimes_." Daryl hissed at him, and Rick flinched slightly above him. Daryl hadn't said his name like that for a long time - since before the farm, really. It was petty, doing it now, but Daryl's mind was on overdrive and he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to.

"You should just mind your own business, 'stead a mine. You got 'nough shit to worry 'bout." Daryl finished, glaring off towards the road. Rick sighed above him, and Daryl fought the urge to look back at him.

"This here - this is what I'm talking about, Daryl. You've been 'bout ready to bite everyone's head off since we got here, and you've done everything but sleep out here on the porch. I don't know for sure what this is about, but I'm guessin' it's got somethin' to do with Beth." Rick says, just a little bit sourly, and Daryl freezes at the mention of Beth.

Rick had always been able to figure things out pretty fast - even without all the clues he'd seen when he'd been there, when he'd seen her die too.

It's not just about Beth - it's about all of it, about the prison and everything else. But he can't get his mouth to work right, can't make himself say anything in return to Rick's words.

"Her death isn't on you." Rick tells him, just like what he'd said about Joe and his group. Just like he always did. And just like always Daryl wished he could believed him, but he doesn't. Can't. Because it's _always_ been his fault. And Rick just suddenly saying it isn't won't fix it. Daryl shakes his head finally, letting out a shaky breath that hurts.

"Yeah it is. Same as its my fuckin' fault about the Claimer fucks. An' I shoulda done somethin' more at the prison - done something to save people."

"No, Daryl." Rick cuts off his tirade, stepping forwards so fast Daryl has little time to process it. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything."

"And that's my _point_!" Daryl finally shouts, jumping to his feet to glare daggers into Rick's eyes. "I didn't do shit! I coulda shot the Governor, but I didn't. I coulda kept Beth with me, but I didn't. I shoulda known, 'bout Joe, 'cause I knew something was off - but I _didn't_."

"I coulda listened to Beth and looked for you - could have found you before I left - but I - I didn't - and I thought you were _dead_. And now Beth's _dead_. I left all those people to die 'stead a lookin' for them - I left you to _die_ because I _thought_ you were _dead_ when you _weren't_." Daryl finishes, and he can feel the tears streaming down his face.

Shame hits him a moment later, because he shouldn't be crying like a baby. He's a grown ass man and he shouldn't be crying like he's four, but he's never been good at stoping when he starts.

Rick makes a noise, and Daryl expects him to walk away or hit him, but instead he pulls Daryl into his arms and hugs him so tight it hurts.

Daryl feels a sob bubble out of his mouth, weak and childish, and he hides his face in Rick's shoulder because it's better then thinking Rick can see him. Rick's rubbing his back, gentle, so gentle that Daryl breaks down even more.

All the pain, and sorrow, hate and anger, all of it comes rushing to the surface so fast and Daryl can't stop.

Can't stop as he practically howls from his sobs, he's so loud. He can't sop himself when he starts talking, either, even if he knows he shouldn't say anything.

"My dad was _right_ , I can't do anythin' good. I got my _brother_ killed. I got _Beth_ killed. They died because a _me_ , an I didn't do anything to stop it. I shouldn't be here, I should be out there with the rest of the monsters - _fuck_ , Rick, I thought you were dead. I left you to _die_." Daryl finishes with an embarrassing hiccup, and he grabs Rick's stupid police jacket so hard he's afraid it's going to rip.

Expecting Rick to push him away, Daryl gets ready to move. But Rick doesn't - just moves a hand to his head and strokes his hair so gently it hurts to think about.

"Shhh," Rick says to him, rocking them side to side a little. He still hasn't let go. "I got you. I've got you." Rick's voice is so sincere when he says it too, and Daryl feels his knees go weak and he hardly has time to let out a warning choked off noise before he's falling.

But he doesn't hit the ground. Instead Rick's holding him up, keeping him from falling to the wood porch - Daryl can't see right with the tears in his eyes so he closes and gives a futile attempt at stopping his tears.

Finally, finally after what felt like years, he's able to stop. He wants to pull away, but his face heats in shame and he keeps his head buried so Rick can't see him.

"Hey," Rick suddenly says, and he pulls Daryl back enough to look in his eyes. Rick's own look sad but sure as he speaks to him softly. "Hey, it's alright Daryl. You didn't do anything wrong. You deserve this as much as anyone else here. And we're not kicking you out. You're one of us." Rick says.

And Daryl doesn't have time to think before they're kissing. He doesn't know who started it, and honestly he doesn't care. All he cares about is Rick's lips against his, so soft they're almost not there - but so much presence comes from Rick that Daryl couldn't forget he was.

Rick isn't overpowering him, but he's not _not_ taking some control. They're equal in this, in everything, and Daryl feels a hiccuping breath weasel it's way out of his throat. Daryl pulls away, just a bit, and Rick gives him the sweetest smile Daryl's ever seen.

"C'mon." Rick says, pushing gently on Daryl's back. Not forcing him to move, just getting his want for him to across. "You look exhausted. You should go inside and rest. I'll keep an eye out." Rick tells him, and as Daryl is about to protest it dies on his tongue because Rick is going to watch. Make sure nothing it going wrong. He nods, his feet almost moving of their own volition.

"Alright." Daryl croaks out. Rick just smiles at him and opens the door for him, and Daryl can honestly say he'd slept better that evening then he had in a long time.


End file.
